Even The Generals Have Bad Days
by 80sarcades
Summary: Postwar fiction.  Major General Hogan, now commander of the Eighth Air Force, runs into some 'familiar' characters. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

_**Even The Generals Have Bad Days**_  
_**by 80sarcades**_

* * *

_Disclaimer: I own a house, a car, and a cat. I do not own Hogan's Heroes. Rated T for occasional language._

_Dedicated with the warmest regards to **ColHogan**. As promised (11/08/2010)._

* * *

Traditions and Customs.

Armies all over the world have them; the United States Army is no exception.

From Bugles to Berets, Colors to Ceremonial, the Army of Now maintains a link with the Army of the Past. It honors all the men and women that have served - and died - to keep America free. While some traditions may seem silly to the average civilian, a soldier views them with pride. To that end, the traditions and customs of the service are treated with respect.

Army life, of course, is not perfect; officers and enlisted men are prone to their own share of screw ups, even when unintended. Such was the case with a certain General; it was unfortunate that his change of command ceremony was cancelled when he was hospitalized due to an accident. It wasn't his fault at all that tradition wasn't complied with.

Then again, there is the saying: traditions die hard. Ignoring some of them can bring you bad luck later on in the most unexpected of ways…

_

* * *

_

_June 18__th__, 1947  
__Headquarters, 8__th__ Air Force  
__Bolling Field, Washington D.C._

Major General Robert Hogan closed his eyes for a moment and sighed.

_I should just say to hell with it and put in for retirement next year. Even Klink never gave me this much trouble._

He shook himself awake. With a quick motion of his hand, Hogan scribbled his signature at the bottom of the offending document and filed it in the out box on his desk. He sighed again.

_Just another 500 or so to go._ _Ah, the responsibilities of command…_

Just then Hogan's secretary - a blonde civilian by the name of Candice Jones - knocked on his door.

"Enter," Hogan called out.

Candice stuck her head inside the door and looked at her boss. "Sir, Colonel Hess is here to see you. Your 1030…"

The General nodded. "Send him in."

Colonel Hess - the Provost Marshal for Bolling Field - came through the doorway and stopped in front of his commander's desk; he stood at attention and saluted. General Hogan casually returned the gesture before motioning for him to sit in a nearby chair.

"Colonel," Hogan began, "within two days, the President will be here for an official visit…"

The junior officer's face paled; Hogan restrained the urge to laugh. _At least there are some command perks,_ he thought wryly.

"…and I need you to get together with the Secret Service to coordinate security. You'll find everything you need in here." Hogan picked up a red folder off of the desk and leaned forward to hand it off to the Colonel. Hess briefly glanced at its contents before looking up at the Commanding General.

"Sir, is there any particular reason the President is visiting or is this part of an official tour?" he asked.

Hogan shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, Colonel," he admitted. "He may have a specific reason. On the other hand, he may want to see how our mission works. Regardless, we need to be ready. The Secret Service contact is a man by the name of Jessup; it's in the folder. General Marks, of course, is briefing the other senior officers."

Hogan looked Hess squarely in the eye. "I want no issues with security. If you need anything special, call me."

Hess nodded, aware that the was being dismissed, and stood up. "No problem, sir," he said confidently. "My MP's will surround this base with a ring of steel, sir. No one will get in or out. No one!" the Colonel finished in a loud tone. He then frowned at the sour expression on the General's face. "Sir…" he began, a bit confused. _Just what did I say?_

The General shook his head and gave Hess a curious look for a long moment before speaking again. "That will be all, Colonel," he said dismissively, then turned his attention back to the paperwork on his desk. Hess immediately came to attention, saluted, and left the room; this time the General didn't even bother to return the salute.

_Shit,_ he thought disgustedly, _just what the hell did I do now? Did I just end up on his damn list or something?_

_Wonder if I should put in for retirement?_

_

* * *

_

Back in the office, General Hogan had no such thoughts about Colonel Hess. Instead, his mind was on another man, this one German.

_Hess sounded just like Hochstetter when he did his 'ring of steel' comment. Just thinking about that bastard ruins my day. The things he did to Tiger…_

He frowned again, then replaced the depressing thoughts with happier memories of his new wife. Hogan looked at the pile of papers on his desk again and decided that they could wait; he just needed to get out of the office for a while. Perhaps he should go driving around to inspect things in advance of the visit. Usually, roving Generals tended to shake things up a bit. More often, they made people panic; the higher the rank, the better.

Hogan grabbed his coat and walked out of his office; he paused by the secretary's desk.

"Candice, I'm going to go on an inspection tour," he explained. "Push whatever appointments you have to the afternoon and I'll take care of them then."

She nodded; he wasn't the first officer she had worked for. "Should I let them know you're coming?" she asked.

The General shook his head. "And miss out on the fun?" With a short chuckle, he left the room. As he exited the building, he noticed that the paint job on the headquarters building was almost finished. With any luck, the painters would be done by tomorrow.

* * *

_A/N: Note the presence of the painters. They'll come back to haunt Hogan when he least expects it._

_Bolling Field was real and is now part of Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling; both the Air Force and Navy share the installation. The F-80 Shooting Star (jet) was in the Air Force at the time (1947); the Air Force was established as a separate service that year.._

_Fort Myer is an actual Army post; it provides support for Army personnel working in the National Capital Region. It also has an interesting history: the first flight of an aircraft on a military installation happened at this post. The 3rd U.S. Infantry Regiment (The Old Guard) is also stationed here; they are responsible for all Army full honor funerals at Arlington National Cemetery._

_Thank you for reading; all reviews, of course, are gratefully appreciated!_


	2. Newkirk, and LeBeau

_**Even The Generals Have Bad Days**_  
_**by 80sarcades**_

_

* * *

_

_Disclaimer: I own a house, a car, and a cat. I do not own Hogan's Heroes! My apologies for the delay; I've had some technical issues with my computer. I should have the next chapter out in a day or so. Rated T for occasional language._

_Dedicated with the warmest regards to **ColHogan**. As promised. (11/08/2010)_

_From the last chapter:_

"_Candice, I'm going to go on an inspection tour," he explained. "Push whatever appointments you have to the afternoon and I'll take care of them then…"_

_

* * *

_

_**Chapter 2: Newkirk, and LeBeau**_

True to form, Candice was just too damn efficient. Hogan's driver - a corporal by the name of Simmons - was already waiting beside his official car in the parking lot.

_How the hell did she do that?_ he wondered admiringly. _It took me two - maybe three - minutes to get out here from my office, and he's already here! What did she use to call him? A signal flag? Mirrors?_

_Too bad she wasn't with us at Stalag 13. She probably would have given Kinch a run for his money, and then some._

The General dismissed the enlisted man with thanks; after all, he wasn't too old to drive himself around. He also knew that a staff car with a passenger in the backseat practically screamed 'senior officer' to anyone looking out for it. Therefore, today he wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Hogan yanked the two-star flag out of its holder on the front fender, climbed into the car, and threw the flag on the backseat before starting his unofficial review.

Oddly enough, it was also his first inspection as a General without an aide-de-camp in tow. His junior aide, Lieutenant Daniel Jackson, was currently on leave. While this wasn't a problem - after all, he had two aides - the Pentagon had decided otherwise. Hogan, for all of his skill, was powerless against the Army bureaucracy that directed Captain O'Neill to attend a one day 'training' session for senior aides-de-camp.

_Jack might be a wiseass at times, but he's pretty good at spotting any details I've missed_, Hogan thought. _Instead, he has to attend how-to-do-his-job 101! And to think the on the job training wouldn't be enough…_

As he drove around, Hogan made mental notes on what needed to be fixed or improved for the visit. The guards at the airfield itself were surprised, if not shocked, to see the Commanding General driving himself around. Fortunately for them, they had the presence of mind to salute when his car approached the gates. Hogan's hand automatically returned the salute even as one of the men raised the red and orange barrier that blocked entry to the airfield. Once clear of the gates, he headed for the nearby hangars. He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw one of the guards disappear into the guard shack. Presumably, they were letting others know that he was out and about.

_I wonder how long it will take before everyone starts to panic? I can just see the headline now: "The General is Loose! Run for Your Lives!" _

He glanced at the aircraft parked on the flight line. _God, I miss flying. When they promoted me it didn't seem that big of a deal; I could always go and get in an airplane if I wanted. Then I had to ask for this command. At the time, helping SAC was and still is the priority; if Eighth Air Force can fulfill its mission then I've done my job. So I have no problem with that. What I never expected were the backbiters and their mentors that wanted 'their' person in this job. Not to mention all of the political bullshit in creating a separate service._

_I love to fly, and I love the Army. Politics be damned._

_Why can't we all just get along? _

He stopped the car next to one of the hangars and got out of the car. If he was fortunate, the side door he saw would be unlocked; going through the main doors would not be much of a surprise if he wanted to see how things were going.

The front part of the hangar space was decidedly military; several P-80 Shooting Stars and other aircraft types were parked neatly on the sealed concrete floor. It was the back corner of the hangar that fascinated him. The windowless room located there _- some kind of machine shop? - _seemed to be busy; he could hear muted noises and voices echoing faintly through the large interior of the hangar . Just then, the metal door leading to the shop opened and an enlisted man came through the opening. When he saw the General, his jaw dropped in shock; Hogan watched amusedly as the man threw him a sloppy salute before literally running for the side door at the back of the hangar.

_Well, that doesn't happen everyday. So let's see what's behind door number one…_

He walked over to the door and opened it. What he saw inside the large room astounded him. _Jesus Christ,_ Hogan thought, amazed. _What the hell is this?_

Someone, or several _someones_, had set up a full-fledged casino complete with betting tables and chairs. Even several slot machines were visible, though most of the attention was on the center table where a card game was going on. A blackboard on the wall nearest the tables had names and numbers etched on the chalky surface; Hogan correctly guessed they were the names of horses as well as their odds of winning.

_Well, I'll be damned! Is that a roulette table?_

Ignorant of Hogan's presence, the croupier at that table looked at his customers. "Place your bets, gentlemen. Place your bets," he said in a smooth tone; the English accent was unmistakable. Hogan watched as the man set the ball in motion…

"HOLY SHIT! IT'S THE GENERAL!" someone yelled from the poker table. "ATTEN-HUT!"

As by reflex, all of the men snapped to attention. The ball, meanwhile, stopped its rotation and clattered loudly into an empty slot on the wheel. As the sound echoed away, Hogan's eyes glared at the motley crowd before him. Inwardly, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

_This certainly qualifies as the strangest parade I've ever seen. All you need now is a cigarette girl and a bouncer. Plus a bar, of course. I wonder if these jokers have one somewhere? _

Since all of the men were enlisted - Hogan hoped that none of his officers would be involved in this mess - it made things a bit simpler.

"Who's in charge?" Hogan asked; as one, the eyes of the assembled men pointed to the man at the roulette table. Finally, their target nervously cleared his throat.

"I am, sir. Master Sergeant Peter Newcombe. Sir," he said, his face paling.

The General blinked. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn the voice belonged to Peter Newkirk. If it hadn't been for the fact that he knew the former Corporal was in England - courtesy of a letter he had received several days ago - he would have wondered what the former con artist was up to. The man even had a passing resemblance to the Englishman. Hogan shook it off.

Instead, he looked at the NCO for a long minute before breaking away to study the room in detail. Hogan's eyes took in the setup - someone had put some thought into it; he could even see how the tables and other furniture could be hidden quickly if need be - and looked at each enlisted man's pale face before speaking again.

"You know," he commented lazily, "I'm not sure which Article of War would precisely fit this situation….or if more than one can be used…."

Although some of the men looked positively sick, their eyes never left the General. Hogan continued on, his voice calm. "I must admit that I'm disappointed, gentlemen," he admitted. "In two days, the President is visiting Bolling Field." He stopped and shook his head, a look of confusion on his face. " What I can't understand is why you would do it."

"Sir, I take full responsibility. None of the others had anything to with it, sir," Newcombe offered, still staring straight ahead.

"That's commendable, Sergeant," Hogan said dryly. "However, that doesn't answer the original question. I want to know why you did it," he demanded.

Newkirk's doppelganger instantly came back with a reply. "For troop morale and recreation, sir," he said loudly, if not proudly.

Hogan snorted. "No, Sergeant. What I want to know is…why did you put Galloping Gus at 5 to 1 odds?"

Newcombe blinked his eyes. "Sir?" he asked, his voice confused.

"I've seen Gus," Hogan commented with a poker face. "Do the words 'broken down' mean anything to you? You'd do better to offer twelve to one; at least you'd make more dough that way."

The room was silent for a long moment before someone chuckled; it soon spread as the men realized that Hogan was not going to send them to Leavenworth. At least, not yet.

"All right, guys," Hogan called, "clean this stuff up and get it out of the hangar; we have a visit to get ready for. Newcombe?"

Color had, by that time, returned to Newcombe's cheeks. "Sir?"

"Who's your partner in all of this?"

The NCO seemed surprised; Hogan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Of course you have a partner! If you don't, then I'm Thomas E. Dewey!_ Before the sergeant could answer, another voice beat him to it.

"I am, sir," a man called, pushing to the front of the group. Hogan blinked his eyes; the man had more than a passing resemblance to Louis LeBeau and not just because he was short. How the man had passed the minimum height requirement was beyond him. The stripes on the sleeve, of course, were no surprise.

_Another Sergeant. Why am I not surprised? They really run the damn Army anyway, officers or not._

"Staff Sergeant Louis Lewiston, sir," the short man said, then saluted. Hogan returned the gesture even as he fought a smile. _At least he doesn't have an accent, _Hogan thought. An image of LeBeau's face drifted into his mind's eye for a moment. _It's too bad that Newkirk and LeBeau live overseas; having them meet these two jokers would be more than funny. Then again, I probably wouldn't have a command left if they _did _get together! _He pointed a finger toward the two men.

"You two. Get this stuff out of my sight before I court-martial you both," he said in a firm tone. Both of the enlisted men blanched.

"Yes, sir," they said in unison before turning to give orders to the other men. Amazingly, the space was almost cleared in no time. Hogan wondered if that had been rehearsed as well.

_How much do you want to bet that all of this goes to another hangar? Or building. Maybe…no, I don't want to know,_ Hogan thought. _As long as they don't break any legs, it's worth it for the morale factor alone. And to think of some of the stuff we pulled…_

Lewiston's angry voice interrupted his thoughts. To his surprise, the NCO directed a string of French words - impressive curses, really; Tiger could put together a few herself - towards two men lugging a heavy slot machine. Hogan stared at the man curiously until Lewiston felt his gaze. The enlisted man turned to the Commanding General, his face slightly red.

"Sorry, sir," he apologized. "My mother was Cajun…"

Hogan nodded. "Carry on, Sergeant," he said, then watched as the two Sergeants took care of some final details. Satisfied that the hangar was back to military standards, Hogan started back towards his car. He was halfway across the concrete floor before the giggles started; by the time he had reached the doorway it had dissolved into full-blown laughter.

_Oh God, I needed that! It may cost me a star or two somewhere down the line if they get caught, but it's worth it!_

_

* * *

_

_Next: Kinch, and a Surprise._

_SAC - Strategic Air Command. At that time (1947), its goal was to be able to provide bombing missions to any target in the world._

_One of my favorite movies is __Sgt. Bilko__, even though it's a bit on the far side of impractical. On the other hand, having an 'operation' like his in Hogan's command would be more than fitting. I couldn't resist throwing in the Stargate-SG1 reference (the aides Jack O'Neill & Daniel Jackson)_

_As always, all reviews are appreciated! I hope you enjoyed this installment!_


	3. Kinch, and a Surprise

_**Even The Generals Have Bad Days**_  
_**by 80sarcades**_

* * *

_Disclaimer: I own a house, a car, and a cat. I do not own Hogan's Heroes_

_A BIG thank you to all of the reviewers and readers out there! Hopefully, I will continue to entertain you further!_

_Dedicated with the warmest regards to **ColHogan.** As promised. (11/08/2010)_

* * *

**Chapter 3: Kinch, and a Surprise**

Two hours later, General Hogan was ready to call it quits. Despite the hangar incident, there were no other major problems in his part of the airfield. As he finished lunch he suddenly remembered the firing ranges or, as the Army euphemistically called them, tactical training areas.

Technically, they weren't under his command. On the other hand, he did share them with the post commander at Fort Myer and the Commanding General of Fifteenth Air Force, so…

_In for a penny, in for a pound. I really didn't want to go back to the office anyway._

The large area itself was simple enough, and divided into two parts: a range for small arms and one for the heavy ordnance. Both ranges were spaced apart from each other and marked clearly for safety; the appropriate signs warned unauthorized personnel to stay clear of those areas or else. At first glance nothing, as far as he could tell, seemed out of the ordinary.

_So why do I have a bad feeling?_

Hogan shrugged it off. There was nothing obviously _wrong; _the artillery range, for example, was to military standard. The noncommissioned officers at the rifle range were professionals at work. The pistol range adjoining it was also in top shape. Several of his officers were already there for their annuals; fortunately, his presence didn't throw the aim of their .45's off too much. Satisfied that all was in order, he climbed back into his car. Instead of taking the main route back to Bolling, he turned off onto a side road that would eventually lead him to the airfield. A few minutes later, he passed by a column of troops marching towards the rifle range. Their black faces brought another man to mind.

_I wonder what Kinch is doing right now? _Hogan thought; there were times he sorely missed his former second-in-command. This was particularly true when he compared some of his current officers to his former Sergeant. A good number of those men lacked the cool judgement and skill that Kinchloe possessed. If Hogan had had his way, Kinch would have been commissioned and made an aide-de-camp. Against the Army Establishment, however, it was not to be.

_I really can't blame anyone for getting out_, Hogan thought. _War forces you to survive. When peace arrives, you want to live. Unfortunately, I have to work with what is left: a collection of professional men, enlisted and otherwise, surrounded by a cadre of professional brownnosers and backbiters. Fortunately, the former barely outnumbers the latter, for now. If not, the Army Air Forces would really go to hell._

He glanced in the mirror and saw the men at the tail end of the column suddenly drop to the ground.

_What the hell…_

That was all he could think before his world exploded.

A towering column of dust, gravel, and smoke belched out of the road surface in front of him. The concussion wave shook the car and threatened to stall the engine even as it knocked the breath out of his lungs. Hogan's mind, however, went into overdrive as old reflexes kicked in.

_Shit!_

He barely managed to keep control of the car as it somehow slid around the gaping crater that he knew was left in the road. Two more rounds landed to his rear; the back of the car actually lifted up enough for him to see the rocks in the road quite clearly before gravity reclaimed its own. The impact, accompanied with a heavy _thunk_ sound, caused the car to fishtail wildly. Only Hogan's quick actions kept it from skidding off the road and into the ditch.

_Screw this!_

In one smooth motion, Hogan opened the car door and bailed out.

He barely felt the hot road surface beneath his uniform; inertia carried him the rest of the way to the nearby ditch. Another explosion - this one close - rang in his ears as he covered his head with his hands and prayed to whoever would hear him. A smaller secondary blast followed, followed by several bigger explosions; then all was silent.

After a long moment, Hogan sat up and carefully looked over the edge of the ditch. His hands were shaking as two thoughts ran through his mind:

_Christ, I could have been killed! That was too damned close!_

This was immediately followed by:

_I'm gonna bust the jackass who did this down to Private! Then they can type up the paperwork! All of it, in triplicate, with no carbons!_

Meanwhile, the staff car - which had been demolished by a direct hit - continued to burn merrily.

* * *

Gritting his teeth in rage, General Hogan stood up just as the first of the nearby soldiers reached his position. Predictably, they goggled at the sight; it wasn't everyday you saw a two-star General crawl out of a muddy ditch, much less come under fire. The sergeant in command of the column gave a crisp salute.

"You ok, sir?" he asked. Hogan just stared at the man, his anger forgotten for a moment. _He looks just like…_

"Sir?" the man repeated, concern in his eyes. The General shook his head.

"I'm fine, Sergeant," he said. "You just reminded me of someone."

The black man nodded. "Get that a lot, sir." There was a trace of a smile on his lips; Hogan swore he heard a stifled chuckle from somewhere. Hogan didn't ask what the joke was, and didn't really care. "Anyone hurt?" he asked.

"No, sir," the man replied, shaking his head. "Just shook up." Hogan glanced at the nearby men; most of them looked like teenagers.

_None of them look old enough to hold rifles, much less be soldiers._

"Where's your officer?" Hogan asked.

This time, the Sergeant looked slightly uncomfortable. "Lieutenant Evans is up at the range, sir," he reluctantly confessed. "He ran on ahead to set the range up."

_Translation: he didn't want to march with you so he took the easy way out. _

"I don't have a radio, sir, but I can send a runner to the range…." He turned his head, eyes finding a target. "Anders!" he called; a solder shifted forward. "Get your ass up to the range; tell them there's been an accident!" he ordered.

Before the man could comply with the command, Hogan held up his hand. "That's not necessary, Sergeant," he said. "Look." He gestured up the road; a jeep could be seen coming at full tilt. _At least the FO of whatever was firing at us is on the ball right now._

_Too bad his officers weren't._

_

* * *

_

Hogan ordered the driver of the jeep, a private - who was only too happy to get away; he had no desire to be near a pissed off General wearing a mussed uniform - to go to the rifle range and bring back Lieutenant Evans. The two officers that were with him weren't as lucky. As soon as the driver left, Hogan took both men over to the side of the road to explain their version of events.

Normally, Hogan would have had both men standing tall in his office later in the day, or even the next. A cardinal rule was not to discipline men - particularly officers - in front of their subordinates. This, however, was not one of those times. If anything, the ass chewing he gave the officer in charge of the artillery range - _where in the hell did this joker come from? He wasn't there earlier! _Hogan thought angrily - was only slightly more spectacular than the one he gave the RSO (Range Safety Officer).

It didn't help his anger any that the OIC was the spitting image of Wilhelm Klink, albeit with more hair.

Fortunately for them, the luckless lieutenant showed up a few minutes later. By this time, Hogan's rage had cooled to the point where he calmly told the young officer that leading troops and setting the example was more important that taking advantage of privileges of rank.

With that done, he commandeered the jeep and told the driver to take him to the nearest phone. The lieutenant, of course, was going to march to the rifle range with his men. As for the other two officers…

_Hopefully, they'll enjoy their walk in the woods,_ Hogan dryly noted.

The black soldiers, meanwhile, were lined up on the other side of the road. As the General's jeep pulled out onto the roadway, the enlisted men stood to attention before raising their hands in salute. Despite their suppressed smiles, the gestures of respect were crisp and their stance was parade ground perfect. For a brief moment, Hogan saw respect - even awe - in the Sergeant's eyes as they passed by. Once again, Hogan was again reminded of Kinch. _Not that I deserve it. I was doing my damn job, just like those two idiots should have been doing theirs._

The rifle range, much to Hogan's chagrin, had the phone in question. Despite curious glances from nearby soldiers - and Hogan really couldn't blame them; he looked like crap - he called his office and asked Candice to send a courier with the spare set of pinks and greens he kept in his office closet. He was profoundly grateful that his secretary asked no questions about what had happened. It was just as well; just thinking about it made his jaw clench in anger.

Thirty minutes later, Major General Hogan was decently uniformed once again. On the long ride back to his office, he couldn't help but think about the coincidences that just seemed to add up.

_First, it was Hochstetter,_ he mused. _Then Newkirk and LeBeau, Kinch and Klink. God bless Schultz, but I don't think we have any Sergeants that fat on base._

_Well, the day couldn't get any worse._

_Could it?_

_

* * *

_

Like any good assistant, Candice knew when to keep her mouth shut. This didn't stop her from wanting to ask questions. The General could see it in her eyes as he walked directly past her desk and into his office without saying a word. Hogan closed the door and quickly took off his uniform jacket. After throwing it on the nearby couch, he then immediately made a beeline for a small cabinet in the far corner. There were some advantages to being a General, after all; having liquor on call was one of them.

He poured half an inch of Jim Bean whiskey into a shot glass before letting it slide down his throat in a soothing burn. Then he poured another before he put the glass back in its place. With a small sigh, he closed the doors to the cabinet.

_That's it. At least until tonight._ He glanced at the paperwork on his desk. _Is it just my imagination, or did that pile grow by several inches? Oh, well. Might as well get to it. I'll have to have Candice pull the forms for destruction of Government Property, accidental. That is, if she hasn't filled them out already. She's the type that can give lessons to efficiency experts._

Hogan had just made himself comfortable in his office chair when there was a knock at his door. This time, Candice didn't wait for an answer. As she came inside, Hogan could see the concern in her eyes.

"Boss, are you ok?" she asked, closing the door behind her. "Colonel Hess told me that there had been an accident…"

"I'm okay, Candice," he replied, shaking his head. "Just a long day. What's up?"

"You asked me to reschedule your appointments for this afternoon," she began hesitantly. "Your first one is here. Do you want me to reschedule them for tomorrow?"

The General shook his head, then smiled at his secretary. "No, that's all right," he said. "Who's up first?"

"New materials briefing," she recalled from memory, then smiled in return. "The lieutenant giving it is waiting outside. Should I send him in?"

Hogan raised an eyebrow. "A lieutenant?" he asked incredulously. Junior officers - particularly those with single bars on their shoulders - were like children: they were to be seen, but not heard.

_Then again, why am I complaining? I lived with enlisted men for years!_

Candice nodded. "Apparently, the officer that was supposed to give it suffered a broken leg this morning. They sent the lieutenant over in his place."

The General snorted. "Well, what the hell," he remarked as he laid aside a thick report. "Couldn't be any worse than pushing paper." A warm laugh escaped Hogan's throat even as his lips curled upward into his trademark smile. More than anything else, it assured Candice that everything was okay with her boss.

"Go ahead and send him in," Hogan ordered. "This should be interesting."

* * *

Candice was used to her bosses doing all sorts of strange things; as an Government employee - GS-12, in fact - she almost expected it. It was much like marriage, after all; men did odd things from time to time. Even the stuffy ones, she reflected. Poor dears…

So she wasn't surprised, but merely startled, when she heard the sound of breaking glass coming from Hogan's office. Candice immediately got out of her chair and opened the door to the other room.

"General?" she called. "Are you…"

The words died on her lips when she saw the gaping hole torn through the glass in the right hand window. The lieutenant, meanwhile, had just opened the window next to it. As she watched, he climbed though the empty space before quickly dropping to the ground below and out of her line of sight.

She hurried over to the desk and looked out through the open window. The General and one of the painters that had been working outside the building both lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious. A large white smear covered the top of Hogan's shirt and continued onto the grass next to him. A paint can, still dripping its contents, lay on its side between the two comatose men. The lieutenant, kneeling next to the General, had a panicked look on his face as he looked up at Candice; his yell broke her stupor.

"CALL THE MEDICS! NOW!"

* * *

_Finale: Was It Something I Said?_

_A/N: Ah, a cliffhanger. Poor Hogan! Of course, you can probably guess who the lieutenant is…_

_As noted before, Fort Myer's mission today is mainly of support. However, it also was a staging area in WWI for various Regiments and Companies. Artillery was among them._

_Seat belts, as hard as it is to believe now, were once only offered as options. They weren't standard until the late 1950's or so; I can't imagine a goverment-issued car having them prior to that._

_All reviews, of course, are gratefully appreciated!_


	4. Was It Something I Said?

_**Even The Generals Have Bad Days**_  
_**by 80sarcades**_

* * *

_Disclaimer: I own a house, a car, and a cat. I do not own Hogan's Heroes. _

_Last chapter. Dedicated with the warmest regards to ColHogan. As promised 11/08/2010._

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 4: Was It Something I Said?**

"He'll be all right, General," the doctor - a full Colonel - said calmly. "A little groggy for a while, along with some cuts and bruises, but fine. I'll have to run some more tests, but he'll probably have to remain overnight. Have you notified his wife?"

Brigadier General Jackson Marks, Hogan's deputy, nodded. "She's on her way now. I just spoke to her," he confirmed.

"Do you know what happened to cause this?" the Colonel asked. "The medics said that the General was in some sort of accident with a house painter. He's also fine, by the way; we're keeping him under observation."

"I'm not sure at this point," the General admitted. "I was about to go talk to the other witness when I ran into you." _And I wish I could. Preferably with a tank_, Marks thought. _Hogan would be better off with a certified quack instead of you._ Relations between the two men were less than cordial and had been so for years.

"From what I also understand, General Hogan was involved in another incident this morning," the Colonel also said quietly. "Jumping out of windows - or through them, should I say - is not a normal course of action."

"Neither is jumping out of airplanes, but people do that all the time," Marks replied in a cool tone; he didn't like where this was going.

"It does raise questions about his mental state," the doctor said. "Particularly in connection with that other incident I heard about…"

"Don't even go there, Colonel," Marks quietly interrupted in a deadly tone. "Treat him. Get him well. But don't go there."

"As his doctor, I have to raise that question. Particularly since he's a senior officer," the Colonel replied unrepentantly. "My duty to my patient…"

General Marks scrowled. "Two words, Doctor," he said, interrupting again. "San. Diego."

The Colonel paled visibly.

"Drop it. Or else," Marks warned. The General's eyes flashed dangerously, daring the Colonel to try him.

The two men glared at each other for a long moment before the doctor abruptly turned around and walked off. The General let out a long, slow breath. _For a minute there_, he mused, _I thought the bastard would do it._

_Let's be honest. Hogan is crazy. Not only that, he's certifiably crazy. Anyone that ran an operation like he did - beneath a POW camp, no less! - rates their own mental ward. _

_But I'm not going to let some prick actually put him there. Particularly since he saved my ass from the Krauts when I was shot down._

_And if the Doc presses it, let him; I've got the pictures. We'll see who laughs last._

_No, General Hogan is crazy, but brilliant. As it should be._

General Marks was all too aware that a question of mental stability - even a false one - could ruin a man's career.

He walked down the hallway and ducked into a small room before closing the door behind him. Except for an Army Air Force lieutenant, the room was empty. To his credit, the junior officer immediately came to attention and saluted. Only his eyes showed his nervousness.

"At ease," General Marks said; the lieutenant relaxed his stance. Marks looked at the young officer for a long moment.

"General Hogan is fine," he finally announced. "Some bumps and bruises, but nothing serious." He let that sink in for a moment before speaking again. "Tell me what happened in his office."

"Well, sir…" the lieutenant began hesitantly. "I was supposed to brief the General this afternoon on the new explosive they were developing for the Mark 30 bombs. Major Carswell was supposed to give it, but he broke his leg this morning. The new stuff is really great, sir," the man said, warming to the subject. "The explosive yield alone-"

General Marks impatiently raised his right hand in a 'come on' gesture. The lieutenant blushed slightly before continuing with his original report.

"…I was already on the team testing the material, so the Major asked me to give the briefing and answer any questions the General might have. When I told the General my name, he gave me a funny look. That's when things began to go wrong, sir."

"Why?" the other officer asked, curious.

"Well…" the lieutenant began uncomfortably. "when I told him that I was Lieutenant Carter, he got this odd look on his face and asked me what my first name was. I told him Andrew, then explained what I was there for. At that point, I uncovered the display the Major had asked me to take along. The display has a small model of the charges already shaped - just like it would be in the bomb - along with the detonator mechanisms," he explained.

"I never even got the chance to brief him on anything, sir, much less tell him the detonators were duds," Carter said, his voice almost pleading. "He took one look at it, turned around, and dove out the window. I don't even think he saw the painter out there, sir. That's when he got knocked unconscious. His secretary called for the medics. That's all that happened, sir," he finished.

Lieutenant Carter swallowed nervously, not sure what to make of the look of amusement in the General's eyes. He took a chance and spoke again.

"Do you think it was something I said, sir?"

[fin/ende]

* * *

_A/N: All reviews are gratefully appreciated; I hope you enjoyed the story! _


End file.
